.
2130 HOURS
TO say Archie Sikes was satiated would have been a total understatement. In reality, he was slaked, quenched, and fulfilled to the ultimate. To also state that he was drained to the physical weakness of a baby would have been another minimized depiction. The young Englishman's energy level had sunk close to collapse. However, because of Harry's regulation of his drinking, at least he was not sick or hungover.
Now they sat on the balcony of their hotel room, both consuming some light snacks and beer as the twinkling glare of Khoshi's lights cut upward into the night sky. Harry gazed with amusement at his companion. "Well, Archie, me lad, it appears you've 'ad quite a day, 'ey?"
Sikes chuckled. "You're right about that. And after all them weeks in the desert and mountains, believe me, I deserved it."
"That you do," Harry said. "Are you ready to settle down to a bit o' seriousness, then?"
Sikes was slightly surprised by this somber turn in events, but gave an affirmative nod.
"Them Iranian mates o' yours are a bunch o' sods," Harry said, unsmiling. "And 'ere's something else for nothing, my lad. They're right on the bluddy edge o' disaster."
"Wot the hell are you talking about, Harry?"
"They've been too cheeky for their own good," Harry said. "That's wot I'm talking about. And they're for it. The Iranian people, particularly the young ones, are restless and angry, and the next revolution is gonna send them mullahs packing. And that goes for any poor sod that supported them. And you can believe there's plenty o' outside interests who want to see that 'appen."
"I suppose you're talking about the Americans," Sikes commented.
"I'm talking about nearly the whole of the United Nations," Harry said. "All this nuclear shit and supporting the 'Ezbollah is coming back to 'aunt 'em. So 'ere's a warning for you to heed. Get the 'ell out o' Iran as fast as you can."
"I think I got a future with 'em, Harry," Sikes said. "I ain't got much choice but to stick with 'em."
"If you go back, you're gonna get killed," Harry said.
"Oh, yeah? And by who, may I ask?"
"The Israelis."
Sikes was surprised by that. "Now, how're they gonna do that?"
Harry instinctively lowered his voice. "By bombing the 'ell out o' that camp you just came from." He looked around at the nearby balconies to make sure there was nobody lounging on them before he spoke again. "They know about the Iranians buying all them tanks and armored vehicles from me. They know about the planned invasion of Afghanistan, and they damn well know the Iranians are going to continue their operation of taking over the whole o' the bluddy Middle East and build up WMDs to boot."
"Ha!" Sikes laughed. "Now, how do they know all that?"
"Because I told 'em."
If Sikes still had any lingering effects from the day's drinking left, it quickly faded away in the shock of this revelation. "Wot this all about then?"
"I always know which side me bread is buttered on," Harry said. "In me business you can't choose causes, right? You got to look after yourself and do what's best for you personally. After I made the deal with the Iranians, I got 'old of the Mossad, and told 'em every bluddy thing I know." He cleared his throat and grabbed his bottle of beer. "Ahem. I'm on their payroll."
"Well, this puts me in bluddy deep shit, Harry!" Sikes said angrily. "Thank you very much."
"You can come out of it smelling like a rose, me lad," Harry said. "I need a younger man for an 'elpmate, 'ey? Someone with youthful energy, know what I mean? A smart, energetic partner. That's you, mate."
Sikes was silent for a moment. "Are you offering me a job, Harry?"
"That's it, Archie," Harry replied. "You'll get rich, lad. I got no son o' me own to leave nothing to, and you'll do fine. You got guts and you're smart."
"Wot'll I do for you, Harry?"
"You'll be me legman," Harry answered. "I'll still set up the deals and you can give me an 'and whilst you're learning the business. And when there's trips to be made and deliveries to check on, I'll send you out."
"I ain't got a passport, Harry. And I'm a deserter from the British Army, or have you forgot that?"
"I ain't forgot," Harry said. "And I can get you a passport from any country with any name we prefer. Think about this--a starting salary of two hundred and fifty thousand Euros a year plus bonuses when deliveries are made." He leaned toward him. "And imagine just 'ow much 'elp you can give your mum and dad when you're rich, 'ey?"
"There's something else," Sikes said. "Me warrant officer, Hashiri, has been a great help to me. He even saved me life the day I was wounded. How about taking him out with me?"
"Can't be done," Harry said. "The first reason is that we ain't going back to that camp, so we can't fetch 'im. And the second is that 'e's a bluddy Wog, so 'e won't be the first 'eathen to die for an English master."
"That's the way it is, hey?" Sikes asked.
"That's it. Now, wot d'you say, lad?"
Sikes grinned. "When do we leave, Harry?"
"Later tonight. That plane I chartered is set up to fly us to my bungalow in Singapore instead of returning us to Sabzevar."
.
FORMER SEAL BASE CAMP
IRAN-AFGHANISTAN BORDER
THE Army Rangers had offered to share their bunkers with Brannigan's Brigands, but because of the short time involved in the upcoming mission, the soldiers' proposal was refused with thanks. Lieutenant Brannigan thought it best that they stay out on the LZ and stay in close proximity of the USAF Pave Low chopper and its crew.
Security was no longer an issue in the vicinity, and several campfires made from dried branches of thorn bushes had been lit to heat water for coffee. It was late for a detachment meeting, but there had been a lot to do that day. The checking and rechecking in with Commanders Carey and Berringer at Shelor Field took up a lot of time, as did the breakdown of ammunition, rations, and some other supplies. Only when SCPO Buford Dawkins informed the Skipper that "every swinging dick" was squared away, ship-shape, and ready to go was Brannigan able to take the time to organize for the mop-up of the Iranian Special Forces camp.
.
2200 HOURS
LIGHTS from dying campfires flickered off the side of the helicopter. The crew was inside sleeping as the SEALs settled in a semicircle around the Skipper, who stood in front of the aircraft's open ramp.
"There's quite a few less of us than when we started out on Operation Battleline,"
Brannigan said. "So I've worked out the new TO." He pulled a sheet of paper out of a side pocket of his BDU and unfolded it. "Now hear this."
Everyone sat up a bit straighter, anxious to find out the new configuration.
Brannigan looked at the document for a moment before speaking. "Alright! Headquarters and the Sneaky Petes will stay the same. Under these circumstances we can be considered a reinforced fire team." He glanced over at Bruno Puglisi and Joe Miskoski. "Puglisi, you'll go to Alpha Fire Team, and Miskoski to Bravo. That takes care of the First Assault Section."
Ensign Orlando Taylor stood up to receive the word on the changes in his command.
"Okay," Brannigan said. "Here's the Second Assault Section, under Ensign Taylor. Chief Matt Gunnarson takes over Charlie Fire Team. Devereaux goes to that team as a rifleman. Senior Chief Dawkins takes over Delta Fire Team, and Murchison goes with him as a rifleman. Anybody whose name I didn't call will stay in the same place you started out in. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!" answered a chorus of voices.
"Now here's our formation for moving through the enemy camp for mop-up and other assignments," Brannigan continued. "The left flank will be First Section; the center will be Headquarters and the Sneaky Petes; and Second Section will be on the right flank." He took another look at the diagram he'd drawn. "That's it. We won't be moving out of here until we get the word. There's no telling when that'll be, but when the word comes, we're gonna have to move fast. Any questions or comments? Good. We've got an important job to do, so let's make sure we stay on the ball all through the mission. Dismissed!"